Pinned
by soul-dwelling
Summary: Death the Kid must battle his own friends, and his own impulses, if he is ever to knock down his ten opponents with the aid of only an incredible orb of significant power. In other words, the Soul Eater gang go bowling. Inspired by an anonymous question submitted at my Tumblr page; likely takes place after the manga's conclusion. Rated T for Patty Thompson's F-bombs.


He gazed at the ball in his hands: he needed both of them just to have a decent hold on its slippery roundness. As he looked onto its reflective surface, he saw his own worried expression. How was he to complete this task? It just was not fair! How could his own friends expect him to take on such a difficult task? While his peers could make this exercise look easy—to just act instinctively without over-thinking—he struggled to keep quiet the numerous thoughts competing for attention.

Why did it have to be ten pins? Why did the music blaring have to be so unsyncopated? Why were there so many reflective sparklies under the coating of his bowling ball?

And why could Soul not chew more quietly?!

"Damn it, Kid! Throw the ball already!"

"Come on, man, it's been 20 minutes!"

"Soul, stop talking with your mouth full!"

Death the Kid looked to his peers: Black Star was boiling hot, Soul Eater was getting onion ring spittle on the alley floor, and Maka Albarn wanted even just a quarter of the meal that she had paid for. Tsubaki Nakatsukasa struggled to wear a patient smile, sitting erect in the stiff plastic chair, while Patty Thompson was rocking, her legs spread out so she could keep her balled fists pressed against her thighs rather than clobbering them into her meister's fat stupid head.

"Kid?" Tsubaki volunteered. "Maybe you could hurry up and throw your ball? We only rented the lane for two hours, and at this rate, we may not finish even one game."

Kid sighed. "I understand, Tsubaki, and I thank you for your patience. However, I did not anticipate how complicated a game of bowling could be under such circum—"

"Complicated?! Just throw the fucking ball, Kid!"

Kid glared at his weapon. "There is no need for such language, Patty. I would be able to finish more quickly if you would not interrupt."

"Like you interrupting this game! I haven't had a chance to throw one ball yet!" She pointed three lanes down. "Even those toddlers are having a faster game—with bumpers! Freaking bumpers! I wanted them, but nooooooo, can't have those for a decent game of bowling, 'cause you just have to get a perfect game?!"

"Perfect and precise 300, to be exact," Kid said, turning his nose up. "Although 800 would be better."

"Give him a break, Patty," Maka turned, trying to imitate Tsubaki's calm demeanor. "At least we didn't make him an anchor."

"What does boating have to do with this?"

"What? No, I…I just mean that bowling can take a lot of practice, especially to determine the right spin on the ball, at which arrow to aim, the speed of your approach to the line, and just the right flick of your wrist to send that ball down the lane to knock all those pins down! Or else you could be stuck with a fence post, a yeast, a picket fence, a baby split, or even a baby split with company!"

The three seated weapons and one red-faced ninja stared for a second at Maka.

"She's been reading a lot on this," Soul said, finishing the last onion ring. "She even brought that how-to bowling book from the library in her bowling bag—I don't even think there's a ball in there, just books!"

"I just like to be thorough," Maka said with doe eyes, before they transformed into daggers when she noticed what her weapon had done while he was speaking. "Soul! I skipped dinner to get ready for this evening, while you had a full meal beforehand! I wanted that last ring!"

"Not the first time you wanted Soul to give you a ring," Tsubaki whispered just loud enough for Maka to hear, causing the latter to blush.

"This greasy alley food would have lasted longer if someone would just GO ALREADY!"

Soul had to raise his voice, as the clock centered against the lane wall began to chime. The music grew louder, the bass now reverberating against the walls. The lights dimmed, replaced with a prism of colors beaming from all corners of the bowling alley. A mirrored ball descended from the ceiling, bathing a perplexed and confused Kid in all colors of the rainbow. He moved the bowling ball to his left hand, placing his fingers into it, so that the index finger and thumb on his right hand could press against the headache he felt building from his brain forward to the brim of his nose.

It was now 10 o'clock: time for midnight bowling.

"Gaaaaaaaaah, this is taking forever!" Patty moaned. "Black Star, knock some sense into him!"

A violent grin grew across the ninja's face. "With pleasure!" he said, cracking his knuckles—until he felt slender hands wrap around his and loosened his interlocked fingers. Tsubaki glared at the two troublemakers.

"There will be no knocking sense into anyone." Her eyes softened, looking at their compromised colleague. "Can't you see Kid is struggling? It's not easy trying to bowl a game when you are fixated on precision, especially when losing even one strike prevents you from getting a perfect game."

"And it's harder when Liz isn't present!" Maka shouted, trying to be heard over the thumping she could feel shoot through her eardrums and her very heart thanks to the loud bass. She replaced her book back into her bowling bag—why did she bring that bag if she was only going to carry books in it, Soul could not understand—and continued: "No two weapons, no symmetry! It'd be easier if we could have convinced her to give up a night, but after her spa treatment all day she was so tired!"

"Convenient excuse that was!" Black Star added.

Black Star and Tsubaki had stopped by Gallows Mansion first before meeting with Soul and Maka at Dead Wood Bowling Alley. The facility was located in the B Block Eighth District—and Soul and Maka were very familiar with the alley: it was near her pervy papa's favorite cabaret club. Black Star and Tsubaki had hoped the walk there with Kid and his partners from their home would convince Liz that the game could be fun: throwing a heavy ball down a narrow lane in repeated attempts to knock down the same ten pins each time, as the smells of greasy fried food and the shouts of shrill children and senior citizens reached your nose and ears. Despite how persuasive the ninja and his partner tried to be in speaking with the taller of Kid's weapon, they just could not convince Liz to join them for what would obviously be a fun-filled evening of watching her meister take all night to toss his first ball. Kid had never gone bowling before, and while he was not alone—Maka spent more time reading through her library book on the game than actually observing it—his inexperience was wasting their time.

Soul rolled his eyes. "Heaven help us if he misses and demands we hit the reset button."

All eyes turned to Soul, including Kid's. Maka smacked her book against the back of his head: hunger, the bright lights, and now the bad music (at least, she assumed it was bad) undermined all attempts to be civil with Kid's delays. "Really? Just had to give him that idea now!"

Kid set down his ball on the ball return, and examined the button on the machine. Huh. So if he missed the ball, then he could just try again? Well, that was a welcomed relief for Kid—and led his peers to realize that at this rate they would never finish a game.

Maka and Patty exchanged a look to each other, then a glare at Soul, then communicative glances back to each other. The young man started to tremble: if Kid did decide to reset the game at any point, then Soul would get the blame and find himself stuffed inside the bowling alley's claw arcade game thanks to those two women.

Seeing his bro now in trouble, Black Star pointed at the blue and white computer screen above their lane. "We wouldn't have had this problem if Kid didn't whine until we made him first on the roster! And seriously, you wrote 'DTK'? What does that even mean?!"

Kid's eyes softened. "But everyone else was using initials?" Then he smirked: "Even you, Black Star."

"I still don't get why my initials are humorous to you, Kid! And besides, your name is Death—you could have put Death the Kid on the roster! That is an epic name!"

"Yes, indeed it is," Kid agreed. "However, the computer would not let me use that word."

Now it was Black Star's turn to look confused. "What, 'Kid'?"

Kid rolled his eyes. "Yes, 'Kid.' Because it is 'Kid' that a computer system would find morally reprehensible and seek to bowdlerize because Death forbid that anything about 'Kid' be mentioned in a public place."

Black Star blinked. "Huh?"

"He's being sarcastic," Soul clarified: "He means the computer won't let him type in 'Death.'"

"Then why didn't he say so?! I'm too pissed to listen to shoddy attempts at puns and humor! I'm the only one who gets to make lame puns here! Right, Tsubaki?"

"Yes, of course, Black Star," Tsubaki replied, forcing a smile. Sitting next to her, Maka and Patty shook their heads in sympathy: they knew the pain of having ignorant partners, as one was licking his greasy fingers and the other still would not throw the fucking ball down the lane.

It became too much for Patty, as she started searching through her bowling bag, not listening to Soul's boring explanation regarding why Kid couldn't write "Death" into the computer:

"Seems the bowling alley is getting tired of all the death talk, so they censored it."

"That's lame."

"Meh, blame you Dead-Heads for it—it's like you have to drop that word into every conversation."

"Death Children!" Black Star and Maka simultaneously corrected him. Tsubaki tried not to laugh too hard.

As the meisters judged their weapons' ignorance regarding Death City vernacular, Kid was studying his weapon. Despite the haze of strobe lights and the pounding of bass, Kid could make out in Patty's hand a rectangular object. It looked white—as white as anything could under this lighting. And—and did it have powder coming off of it?

Patty stood, stomping her feet as she approached her weapon. "Kid," she growled. "Throw that ball down the lane, or me and Black Star will play a game of keep away with this powdery bag!"

"Resin bag," a superior voice corrected, looking up the proper word in her book.

"Fuck you, Maka!"

Kid blinked. "Why do you have a resin bag?"

"To keep my hands clean, so the ball doesn't slip off and cream you in your thick skull!"

"Exactly!"

"Again, fuck you, Maka! This bag is also useful to put it in my mouth to gnaw on so I don't bite your head off or Kid's!"

Maka glared at Patty, while Kid blinked. "Technically, I think you are doing the latter right now."

"Shut up!"

"But why keep away?"

" 'Cause Black Star has such poor aim, that he's more likely to knock this bag into you!"

"Hey!" Black Star interrupted, paused, then added, "Eh, you're probably right."

"But what would be so awful about that bag hitting me?"

"It'll spray an asymmetrical blot of white all over your neat and clean suit!"

Kid's pupils dilated. Feeling the sweat drip immediately pour out of his palms, now he wanted the resin bag—just not the way that Patty wanted him to have it. He spoke quickly in one breath: "Well then, I best throw this old ball down the lane, then! I should not delay our progress, as it is already 10:20 and we only have so much time at this lane!" He forced a laugh to keep from crying.

Patty continued to stare at him. He had not seen that crazed look and demonic smile since he first encountered her and her sister in New York. Damn Patty, Kid thought: she's likely to ruin either his perfect game or his perfect suit.

In one swift movement, Kid grabbed the ball from the ball return, approached the very edge of the line demarcating the legal edge from which to throw the ball, spread his legs, and with both hands, began to sway the ball from between his legs and towards the lane.

Soul and Black Star immediately broke out into laughter. Despite her own hesitance, Maka struggled to stifle her own laugh, placing her hand over her mouth. Patty's own hung agape, while Tsubaki continued to wear a pleasant smile, just hoping this train wreck of an evening would have a better ending.

Kid swung the ball once, twice, thrice, then sent it down the lane.

It stayed centered along the entire path at a blazing speed—oh the mathematically precise power of a reaper!—and then the ball knocked against the first pin and shattered all of its nine peers to the alley floor. A giant white "X" blinked on the computer monitor above their lane.

"Yahoo!" Kid bellowed, leaping into the air. Seeing Black Star and their peers stare shocked at him, Kid composed himself. "Ahem. Well then, that was…quite good for a first attempt. Um, Tsubaki, your turn, yes?"

"Finally," Tsubaki whispered under her breath, as she walked to the ball return, took her solid black ball, fit her fingers into it, and once Kid had departed from the lane, approached. She held her ball in both hands, looked down the lane, walked slowly, increased her approach, swung back her right arm, swung it forward, and loosened her grip on the ball. The orb bounced against the hardwood, rolling with a bit of a curve to the right, then sailing back to the left. It struck the second pin to the left of center, knocking only three pins.

"Ah, shoot!" Tsubaki said, good naturedly. "A garbage throw, huh, Maka? I guess I didn't get lucky on that one—"

"Stop everything!"

Patty slapped the palm her hand against her forehead. "What now, Kid?"

"Garbage indeed—Tsubaki crossed the foul line."

The offending weapon stared at the young grim reaper. "Beg pardon?"

"You crossed the foul line, Tsubaki!"

"I don't think I did."

"Yes, you did!" Kid whined, stamping his left foot. "Didn't you all hear the siren go off?"

"I thought that was just the bad soundtrack."

"No, Soul, that was the 'do not cross this line' siren!"

"Kid, drop it."

"No, Maka, I won't! Rules are meant to be enforced—"

"By an anal freak like you."

"Don't defend your partner on this one, Black Star!"

"This is not a problem, Black Star," a polite voice shouted over the loud music. "I'm sure the monitor would have alerted us if I had stepped over the edge, and if I did foul, then we can just write off my round in this game. Right, Kid?"

Kid glared at his opponent. "Never," he growled. Tsubaki's eyes widened in shock. "You fouled, so we have to start all over."

And he pushed the button on the ball return, re-starting the game.

"I'll of course go first—and if you are going to continue making such errors, maybe you should become—what did you call it, Maka, an anchor?"

Tsubaki could not tell whether the music had stopped playing, or whether she had just stopped hearing everything. Her friendly smile lingered, as she spoke in a monotone.

"Maka. Patty."

The former sat up straight in her uncomfortable seat, and the latter scrunched her eyes. Neither had ever heard Tsubaki look so polite, yet sound so murderous. Soul was starting to regret not using the restroom in the past 20 minutes while waiting for his turn: those onion rings felt like they were going to explode somewhere out of his anxious, scared-shitless body. Black Star didn't quite know what he felt—but never before had he felt so happy that, and so terrified that, he slept in the same bedroom with his weapon.

Both of the young women understood just from the tone of Tsubaki's voice her directions. Maka nervously removed her wallet from her pocket. "S-S-S-Soul," she stuttered, trying to smile at her partner, "why don't you get us some more food, please? Enough to feed five of us?"

"Five?" Soul replied, trying to regain his composure. "But there are six of—"

"And why don't you and Black Star also take in a few rounds of Super Donkey Bros, or whatever it's called? Or maybe some Ms. Asteroid Pac Person?"

"What are you rambling on about, Maka?" Black Star asked, more confused than amused at Maka's mashing of arcade game titles.

Maka shoved fifty Death Notes—all the money she had—into Soul's hands. "Take Black Star with you. Just—just go!"

"Yeah," Patty added. "And bring back some chewy gummy bears, too." Her previous demonic grin returned. "I'm wanting to bite the head off of something."

Soul looked at the three women and one very stern-looking grim reaper. Why the hell was Tsubaki not blinking? And then his eyes widened, and his smile began to resemble Patty's. "Right. Stay away for a few minutes. Then we can continue our game."

Maka nodded, her body still shaking. "Yep—then we can continue the game! All five of us!"

Soul chuckled. "Come on, Star—we're dining well, now."

Black Star looked around, as his friend was marching up the stairs. He looked at the black suited and still bitter reaper, shrugged, and shouted over his shoulder, "Later, ladies. Nice knowing you, Kid—enjoy your afterlife."

Now Kid's grim expression finally changed to one of confusion. "After life? What do you mean? Black Star? Get back here! What are you…talking…about…?"

His speech slowed, as with a bright flash of light and a clink of chains, Tsubaki's hair transformed into its scythe form. Levitating as if by its own power, the chain scythe whipped past Kid, and arriving into the hands of an expecting Patty. Maka, still trembling, mouthed "Sorry" silently to Kid.

And at that moment, the young grim reaper regretted hitting the reset button. His face blanched, and he turned to a very angry Tsubaki Nakatsukasa.

"Now, Tsubaki, let's be reasonable, here!" Kid said, stamping his right foot onto the wooden floor. "You did foul up, and I refuse to let that error stand!"

Tsubaki, still smiling, approached Kid.

Okay, so yelling at her would only worsen his punishment—no, his torture. Time for a new tactic. "Patty," he turned to his weapon, who was dramatically swinging the chain scythe like a lasso. "I am your meister, and I demand that you unhand that chain, now!"

He could feel the sound of her terrifying giggle course up his spine. With her right hand, she tossed the lassoing chain to the last woman, while she kept a grip on the chain's slack with her left hand.

"Maka?" he squeaked, like a scared child.

Now she was starting to giggle. This was kind of fun, actually—she had even stopped trembling as her right hand swung the chain over her head and back to Tsubaki, imitating Patty's hold of the slack with her other hand. Now a triangle of linked chains surrounded Kid, and the space between him and that metal was shrinking as the women approached him. His eyes darted so quickly that he could not tell whether it was the strobe lights or the panic making the images blur together.

"Could we just play keep away with the powder bag instead?" he asked, forcing a nervous smile.

Then Tsubaki's smile disappeared, and the last thing Kid remembered seeing were her hardened eyes as she whispered, "Never."

-o-o-o-

"Mommy! Mommy! Can I have two dollars to play the claw game!"

"Rachel, honey, it's so late right now, and you already spent so much money on the other arcade games!"

"But the loud blue-haired guy just wouldn't accept defeat at Little Miss Pukku ! And there's a really cool prize in the claw machine!"

The young mother studied her daughter's face, her cute features dissolving into a pout. Since when had Rachel learned to make her eyes instantly water like that? The mother finally relented to her adorable daughter. "Okay, Rachel, here's another two dollars." Rachel reached for the Death Notes, before her mother's arm pulled back momentarily. "But no snake toys, right?"

Rachel nodded dramatically, as she snatched the bills from her mother's hand. "Right—no more snakes—and no spiders or scorpions, neither!"

The mother sighed. "Good girl." How many sugary bowling alley foods had she consumed to still be so full of energy at 11 at night?

As Rachel skipped and laughed down the hallway, she barely missed knocking into Soul's shins. The young man groaned, trying to balance the large amount of food on his tray. He looked at the girl, then had to shake his head as he descended down the stairway where his four peers were seated around a table. "Yo, Maka," he called, "does that girl look familiar to—"

"Mine!" His partner grabbed the entire tray of onion rings, extra large sodas, and burgers, and started munching.

Soul stared, then smirked. "Worked up an appetite, then?"

"You know it!" she smiled, ketchup rolling from her lip down her chin. "Avenging an offended colleague and reading more about bratburgers, hambones, and Thanksgiving turkeys makes me hungry!" As he sat down, Soul removed a napkin from the tray, and gently wiped away the mess from her face.

"So how did it go, Tsubaki?" Soul said, ignoring the fact that his meister's face was now as red as the ketchup he had cleaned away.

Tsubaki gave a soft, light laugh and a thumbs up. "Nygus's Method #348 for contending with erstwhile opponents went off without a problem, Soul!"

"Yeah," Patty shouted, "and I had never seen limbs twist in those directions, neither!" Too bad her mouth was full, as she sprayed food onto a disgusted Black Star's face. Soul handed another napkin to his unfortunate bro.

"How much do you think we'll have to pay in damages?"

"Actually," Maka added, her blush slowly disappearing, "the manager threw in an extra game for us."

"No kidding?"

"Really—turns out while we were paying for the lane and getting our shoes, Kid had already harassed other customers. Something about poor posture and imperfect scores. The owner got more complaints during Kid's attempt to escape. He almost reset every lane's game! He's lucky he didn't get hit by a ball when crossing the lanes." Maka turned to Tsubaki. "Or damaging your hair!"

"Oh." Now it was Tsubaki's turn to blush. "I have really strong fibers: good shampoo regiment, the fact that my hair can turn into a chain weapon, things like that."

Soul glanced at Patty. "So how long before Kid is back home torturing you and your sister?"

Patty belched, more spittle hitting an increasingly frustrated Black Star, who had not yet succeed at removing any food from the ravenous weapon's plate. "Depends on how much money customers have to buy him."

"Mommy, Mommy!" A chant broke through alley, as midnight bowl had finished about a half hour ago. Soul turned to see that little girl again, rushing up to her mother, dragging a very large prize by its leg behind her. "I won it, I won it!"

"Great job, Rachel," the mother said, unenthused, too busy checking the score on her bowling league's total. If only her husband had watched Rachel like he had promised. "What did you win?" she said as she turned, her face then growing pale as she saw her daughter's prize: a bruised young man in a ripped and powdered-cake black suit, his limbs assuming positions she didn't know a human body capable of. The young man could only groan, blood dripping out of his nose, and one of his shoes missing.

"You would not believe the hardest part, Mommy!" Rachel said. "It wasn't getting the claw to pull him out—it was trying to remove him from that small cubby hole where the prizes fall!"

"Honey…" the mother started, struggling to form a sentence. "Why…Why did you want to win Lord Death's son?!"

Rachel's face changed from happy to obstinate. " 'Cause he was pinned against the glass wall, blocking the MP3 player that I wanted!"

Then the girl's frown transformed back into a smile. "Could I have another two dollars?"

"I'll give you another $20 to stuff him back in!" someone shouted across the alley.

"Tsubaki!" Maka replied. "That's not nice!"

-o-o-o-

WRITER'S NOTES

There is no exact time setting to this story. I thought it would take place early in the friendship of Kid with Maka and her friends, maybe around Chapter 12—but then Rachel's presence messes that up. It could take place after the manga concluded, yet it seems too mean for anyone to treat the current Lord Death this way.

Blame an anonymous submission at my Tumblr for inspiring this dialogue-heavy short story. I will have an action-oriented multi-chapter story posted soon that more closely resembles an actual Soul Eater manga chapter, I promise.

It seems like my first stories focus on Tsubaki revealing some quality about herself that is rarely emphasized: I imagine that having to deal with Black Star every day, as much as she is dedicated to her meister, she is just one more second from snapping—as Kid unfortunately learned. Tsubaki does not get enough attention, so I enjoyed imagining her hair transforming into a chain to tie up her frustrating colleague.

I am happy in any case to have in-jokes for people who check out my Tumblr or are just Soul Eater fans—let me know whether you can spot them. I'll mention some below:

Of course Soul would more likely mis-name "Death Children." He has eclectic musical tastes, so he would more likely know Jerry than he would strange Death City terminology.

And of course Maka would spend more time memorizing the esoteric lexicon of bowling rather than just watching the game. Then again, I read through About Dot Com's list of bowling terms to improve the word choice in this story. Also like me, I too have experienced that game of keep-away with a resin bag. The powder cleanup is not fun.


End file.
